Nursery Days
by bauble123
Summary: Sherlock and Mycroft at nursery. Response to a prompt.


**This was for a "Sherlock characters in daycare" prompt thing on a forum. I thought it looked fun so here it is!**

Nursery Days

Miss Clover smiled at the small boy. She liked to believe that all children were good at heart, and was sure that this little man would be perfectly friendly once she got to know him. She had no idea why Mrs Mannings had run out of the nursery. She was annoyed, to be perfectly honest. Miss Clover liked to think that she ran a tight ship at Olivewood nursery. "So what's our name, my little man?" she asked, in the sweet voice she used for kiddies.

"Mycroft Holmes. Please refrain from using these patronising diminutives, Chloe. Recent research has shown that they can cause long lasting mental damage in young children." the boy said, looking up at her with a disdainful expression in his blue-grey eyes. His gingery hair was slicked back and he was dressed more crisply and neatly that Miss Clover had ever seen a child before.

"How do you know my name, dear?" she asked, trying to hide her nervousness.

"I looked at your records. Your husband is cheating on you. You were right. Where did you think he was sending all that money? It's an illegitimate child." Mycroft replied, unblinking. Miss Clover tried to disguise her horror. She felt her face turning rapidly scarlet.

"Th-that's nice, dear. Would you like to come and see if you can read your name on your peg?"

"I brought a book." Mycroft went over to his bag and lugged out a hefty volume. Miss Clover stared at it in astonishment. She looked at it; it was _War and Peace_ by Tolstoy.

"I-isn't that a bit old for you? I think you might have got the wrong book…" Some of the children could read, but nothing like that!

"No. I may be a minor but I can nonetheless manage a little light Russian classics. Try to show your prejudice a little less obviously in future. I have read this more than once; I am simply consolidating my recent essay on the time." The small boy sat down and opened the book, scanning the minute text rapidly.

* * *

Miss Clover shuddered. She looked at the small boy with brown curls with great trepidation. He was looking at her, expecting her to say something.

"Hello." she said, reluctant to use any diminutives. "What's your name?"

"Sherlock. Are you the one with the adulterous husband whom you refuse to divorce or the lesbian?" he asked.

"I-I…" Miss Clover stuttered, trying to comprehend the words that had just come out of the small child's mouth. God, he was going to be as bad as Mycroft… Half the nursery staff had quit after him.

"Oh, right – no need to answer. You're the one with the husband."

"How do you..?"

"Observation. My brother taught me. I have to be better than him, so I keep learning. Superiority is the one goal in our sibling rivalry."

"Right." Miss Clover bit her lip. "I'll just hang your coat up for you and you can go and play, okay?"

"All right, then." Sherlock hurried off.

* * *

Miss Clover was attempting to write a report when one of the carers came in. She sighed and put down her pen.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"It's the second Holmes kid." the woman said, quietly.

"What about him?"

"Just… Come and see what he's done."

"Fine." She stood up and followed the cowering woman to the main room. They peered round the door. The children were lined up in a row, all but one, a blonde girl – Lisa Clarke, Miss Clover realised - who was lying on the floor, her arms stretched wide, eyes shut tight and tongue lolling out of her mouth. "Is she…?" Miss Clover asked, sotto voce.

"She's dead – it's part of their game. _He _devised it." the woman pointed towards the young boy with the dark chestnut curls clustering his head. Miss Clover nodded; the Holmes child, of course.

"Step forward Mr Harris." Sherlock said. A small boy stepped forward. Sherlock stared at him menacingly. "You were having an affair with Miss Clarke, were you not?" The child nodded. "Thank you. Step back, please." The boy did so. "Mrs Harris, please step forward." Another girl came forward. "You were upset that your husband was having an affair. When you found out, you devised an ingenious method to inject your victim with a bubble of air into the blood stream which, when it reached the heart, would kill her. You are the murderer." Sherlock announced.


End file.
